A sonnet, by Beverly Stock. Originally published on ClassicalPoets.org on March 28, 2019. It can be found here.
The Pregnant Woman nests a baby seed Who’s ever pressing on her very core While her body adapts to baby’s needs She’s feeling aches she’s never known before.
A linea alba marks a fibrous path, A vertical white line on her flesh Of God’s exacting hemispherical math, Where muscles and the forming child enmesh.
The Pregnant Woman cannot seem to sleep She warns that moods are swinging, family beware And in her waking hours, she tends to weep— The Pregnant Woman needs some extra care.
Long labor pushes her past vertigo Toward the deepest love she’ll ever know.